In the Long Run

I’m a victim. It’s not my fault. Those home improvement shows on television entrapped me. After my husband ordered the expanded cable television, I watched Design on a Dime on HGTV, and my problem snowballed. Soon I was enthralled by similar shows, like Deserving Design, Clean House, Color Correction, Mission: Organization, and Carter Can. The transformations of the homes on these shows, under the direction of young, hip, and extremely bold and confident designers, are usually nothing short of breathtaking and miraculous.

Suddenly I saw my house for what it really was—not my comfortable, lived-in, warm and inviting refuge from the world: it was shabby and worn, with garish wallpaper, faded and threadbare window treatments and hopelessly dated formica counter tops. Where were my clean lines, my pleasing “spaces”, my color palate designed to soothe and relax? The shows convinced me that I needed hardwood or laminate flooring, granite countertops, a versatile cooking island in the kitchen flanked by stainless steel appliances, and a master suite with a walk-in closet as big as my current bedroom.

So I began tackling “projects” around the house. Decluttering the storage room, and cleaning and organizing the spare bedrooms. Tearing out the sink and the vanity in the upstairs bathroom. Ordering a new front door and a sidelight. Stripping and staining the back deck, dreaming up designs for a master suite retreat. The problem is, I’ve started all these projects…but haven’t finished any of them. But it’s not my fault. I place the blame solely on those addicting shows. Not only does watching them take away time that I could spend working on my projects, but each new show seems to highlight areas in my own house that are in desperate need of attention, causing me to plow into yet another project.

Obviously I’m an inept designer, organizer, and project manager. So I’ve been justifying my inadequate efforts. What’s wrong with the old stuff anyway? Is old necessarily bad? Is updating obligatory? All that time and energy expended, not to mention money. Should I change my thinking to be in line with this old adage?

Use it up. Wear it out. Make it do, or do without.

I can almost make do by just watching the television transformations, instead of trying to enact them. And actually, I may be making some progress. Half of the bathroom is now painted Cascading Water (the paint color), although now I’m wondering if it really evokes the right emotional response….

I’m feeling somewhat wistful. October is the month in which I usually run a marathon. This year I will not be competing. Last summer’s hectic schedule, and especially our trip to Europe, left me with too little training time. But I still wish I were running a race.

So I think back to one glorious run in France last July, and I am somewhat mollified. One morning we rode the subway to Jardin des Tuilleries, the expansive park near the Louvre. It was early enough that there were virtually no tourists in the park, or in the courtyard of the Louvre. I nearly had the entire place to myself as I ran along a white, crushed stone road, around a reflecting pond and numerous statues.

The sun was shining, it was still relatively cool, and my stride was comfortable. This was my first run on our trip, and the surroundings could not have been more inspirational. The empty tree-lined paths directly contrasted with the nearby steel and concrete of the bustling city. In the middle of the busy metropolis, here was a place to think and ponder, absorb and enjoy.

I ran under the Arc du Carrousel into the empty courtyard of the Louvre, past the famous landmark pyramid. No one was there. It was eerily thrilling. I ran the perimeter twice, and into the back pavilion, craning my neck to gaze in awe at all the statues gracing the eaves of the palace, wondering at the time and effort required in such craftsmanship.

It was an exhilarating run, and reflecting on it mitigates the disappointment of not running a fall marathon. I hope there will be another marathon in another year, and until then, I have my memories of that morning in Paris.

The waiting is over. My son, the new dad-lawyer, received word that he passed the bar exam that he took last July. It’s been a long two and a half months in lawyer limbo, as he was hindered in his career aims without the all-important bar credential.

He will be sworn in as an official attorney in a couple of weeks. In his honor, I thought I would publish a few lawyer jokes that he can read in case he ever starts to take himself too seriously:

Q: How can you tell when a lawyer is lying?
A: His lips are moving.

Q: Why won't sharks attack lawyers?
A: Professional courtesy.

Q: What's the difference between a dead dog in the road and a dead lawyer in the road?
A: There are skid marks in front of the dog.

Q: What do you have when a lawyer is buried up to his neck in sand?
A: Not enough sand.

Q: Why did God make snakes just before lawyers?
A: To practice.

Q: What do lawyers use for birth control?
A: Their personalities.

Q: What’s the difference between a lawyer and a herd of buffalo?
A: The lawyer charges more.

Q: What do you get when you cross the Godfather with a lawyer?
A: An offer you can't understand.

It was so cold last winter that a lawyer was seen walking down the street with his hands in his own pockets.

Did you hear about the group of terrorists that hijacked a plane full of lawyers?

They called down to ground control with their list of demands, threatening that if their demands weren't met, they would release one lawyer every hour.

And my Key-Limey’s favorite lawyer joke:

Q: What's black and brown and looks good on an attorney?
A: A Doberman pinscher.

All in fun, M. We know you are honest, charismatic, compassionate, and a man of integrity. You will be a great asset to the legal profession. Congratulations, we’re proud of you!